Life Neverending
by sgpcat17
Summary: Nico di Angelo killed himself after he told Percy that he was gay. Now, almost 18 years later, he finds himself back at camp Half-Blood, and he's still 17-going-on-18. Since he "left", it's changed there, and he finds that he is now accepted more than ever before. But could all that change when he's assigned to go on a potentially lethal quest?
1. Prologue

I died a long time ago. Like, what feels like roughly a thousand years ago - or more. Since my death, I've been living in the Underworld with my father, Hades, my sister, Bianca, and my step mother, Persephone.

I still have no idea, even after all this time, exactly how this strang phenomenon happened - how I died and came back, how my entire life changed in the matter of a few short weeks - I still don't know.

All that I know is that suddenly, one day I was alive again, breathing cool, crisp air instead of the scorching heat of Hell. I have no idea what happened to bring me back here, and no idea why, either. I'm not telling when it happened - I'll leave that up for you to decide - and I can't tell you how, what, why, or who.

But what I can and will do is tell you my story.


	2. Chapter 1

This entire thing began when I killed myself. Not long after I told Percy that I loved him and had had a crush on him for years, nearly everyone started bullying me, making fun of me and taunting me. I was even nicknamed "Lover Boy".

All because Percy and Annabeth told Grover, and Grover told Coach Hedge, and Coach Hedge told the Aphrodite cabin, and... Well, you get the idea. Once everyone knew that I was gay, almost everyone hated me.

Almost. Jason, Annabeth, Percy, Hazel, Frank, and Will were still my friends.

But even they couldn't give me as much support as I needed, because everyone else kept on pushing me down.

The others all made my whole life miserable. Well, more miserable than was usual, at least. I became severely depressed. I started cutting myself, and I didn't get help. Will noticed the scars and tried to help me, but I just avoided him. I didn't want help, and I guess I never saw how much he cared.

After about six months, I felt like I had no purpose left, no options. The weight of the world seemed to be hanging from my shoulders, and I couldn't face it. So one day, I just gave up. When I was alone in my cabin, I grabbed my knife of Stygian Iron and stuck it into my neck. Then I drifted away until I was simply... gone.

Eventually, after a time that I prefer not to mention, I made it to the Underworld. Most of what I remember is talking with Bianca about my troubled past life. The Underworld was bearable, but only because of her - well, and the fact that my father is the King of the dead. He let me stay in his castle with Bianca and Persephone. For a while, I felt as free as a bird, and my depression almost entirely disappeared. For two years straight, I didn't cut even once.

But, as always, that happy ending didn't last for very long. After a couple years of being free and hapy, my depression returned. It started coming back in short bursts, and every period of depression lasted longer than the last. I started to cut myself again (not like that did any good, because I was already dead and the wounds just healed right up). Then, because that didn't work, I just gave up on absolutely everything and ended up laying in bed everyday, staring at the ceiling, not moving, just thinking and keeping to myself.

But a few important things did happen.

While I was there, I was able to reflect on what I'd done wrong in life, and I was able to forgive all the people who had done me wrong. But I couldn't forget their actions, or the anger, the lies, the horrors of my past life.

And because of those memories, I couldn't just start anew. Those excruciatingly painful memories stayed with me and stay with me, and I don't think that anything at all will ever take them away, or even partially dull their pain.

But even with those memories, I can survive and put on a fake smile for as long as needed, because I can press them down. I can keep those memories at bay just like I can my feelings.

Today's different, though. Though the same memories circle through my head and burn into my eyes just like they do nearly every morning, my surroundings are different. The ceiling I stare up at isn't brightly lit with the flames of the abyss, and there are no screams surrounding me. The tortured sounds of souls aren't ringing in my ears - instead, shouts of joy ring through the air, and laughter bubbles up from outside.

I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling hanging dark and low, no more than a few feet above my head. My hands are clammy instead of burning hot, and I'm freezing cold. The world around me is familiar from years and years ago, and the scent of drying grass floats on the breeze.

I'm not in the Underworld.


	3. Chapter 2

When I sit up and look around, I notice that almost everything is different. The cabin is not the same, not like how it was whenever I was here before. It's painted in Monster High colors - pink, blue and black. Cartoon skulls are taped up all over the walls. Striped wallpaper lines the inside of the cabin, and casket shaped lockers hand from the ceiling next to each bed. Hades' offering altar is the only unchanged thing in the entire room.

I swing my feet off of the bed and look around. I'm wearing my aviator jacket, silver chain bracelets, a skull necklace and ring, and black jeans with safety pins stuck in them. That's what I was wearing when I died.

I slip down to the floor from the top bunk of a bunk-bed and slink into the shadows in a corner, wary of my surroundings. I need to be careful, because I don't know who lives here now - and I need to find out. I hide in the shadows, waiting for someone or something to enter the cabin.

I don't have to wait long.

After only a few minutes, a crowd comes rushing in, laughing and talking loudly. A flock of girls rush past , accompanied by a few boys, all of whom look either severely goth or emo.

I don't spend long looking at faces, but instead scan my surroundings for any signs of danger. At the same time, I take the opportunity to keep observing.

Most of the beds are either all black or Monster High themed. The only bed that looks different is one stuck in the back corner. It's pitch black, silver, and green, with snakes and embroidered silver lettering on it. Slytherin themed.

Nobody seems to take any notice of me, so I stay there in the shadows, observing. The girls all go into the bathroom to change, while the boys stay in the main part of the cabin and undresses. I cast my eyes down while they change, looking up only occasionally, then quickly forcing myself to look back down, filled with shame. When the kids are done, they climb into bed. For a few minutes, whispers and giggles run rampant through the room, then eventually patter out, replaced by slow breathing and snores.

After I'm sure that everyone is fast asleep and that nobody will notice me, I begin to creep out of the shadows, towards the door. The door is black with a strange pink design on it. I grab the knob and slip outside, unnoticed.

The night air is cool, but not cold, and the moon is about a third of the way up in the sky, shining a brilliant white. I creep from shadow to shadow, taking a quick look around.

Not much has changed at all. The cabins all look roughly the same on the outside, and the Big House is still painted white. The pavilion still has worn wooden benches. The forest looks a bit denser, but other than that it hasn't changed.

I know that a large amount of time has passed though, because there were children of Hades that looked to be eighteen or nineteen in my cabin. Not to mention that my cabin's interior has changed quite a bit.

I'm beginning to creep back to the cabin when suddenly an icy-cold hand on my shoulder stops me in my tracks. I stiffen and turn around, ready to fight if necessary.

Standing before me is one of the boys I saw earlier. His face is cast in shadows, and I can't make out his features all that easily. His eyes find mine and I stand motionless, ready to either bolt or strike.

The boy narrows his eyes slightly and says, "I noticed you earlier, back in the shadows. You're pretty good at hiding." He narrows his eyes a bit more and cocks his head slightly. "Come with me, brother." He says, then turns on his heel and briskly walks away without a glance back.

For some reason unknown to myself, I take the risk and follow him.


	4. Chapter 3

We reach the weapons shed and I hesitantly follow the boy inside. I stand in the doorway, tense, as he clears off a bench and sits down. After a moment, her motions to me to join him and I slowly creep inside, wary that we're surrounded by weapons and that I don't know if I can trust this boy or not.

As soon as I sit down, the boy starts to talk.

"Nico," the boy says. He knows me. Somehow.

"Who are you? And how do you know my name?" I ask suspiciously.

"My name, I will tell you later. I know your name because... Well, I've heard of you. Everyone's taught about the famous who came from their respective cabin."

Famous. The word rings in my ears. Famous, famous, famousfamousfamous. I shake my head. "You can't be referring to me," I say. "I'm not famous. I'm hated."

"Not really. Not anymore, at least. I heard that you weren't... Um, all that popular when you... Left, but now you're more like a legend. The boy who killed himself after a... Um, unfortunate incident." The boy says, seemingly nervous. He gets up and starts to pace.

I wait silently as he continues. "You're in the history books, you know."

I interrupt him. "History books? What history books?"

"'The Modern Legends'. It's one of the books that we have to read for school. We're required to take classes now. We don't just train, we learn about our past, science that the mortals use, math, music. Camp Half-Blood is kind of like a immortal college now. Kind of. Kids here start learning at age six and stop at age sixteen. After that, we're treated as adults and can do whatever we want. Also, it's a bit like Camp Jupiter. We have family cabins now, back where a part of the woods used to be. They started construction on those maybe... ten years ago? I forget."

I narrow my eyes. Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter are becoming more similar? Well, that's surprising. And wait, how did he know that I didn't already know those things...?

The boy keeps talking, ignorant of my suspicion. "Anyways, kids can choose whether they want to stay at home or in cabins, and they can switch back and forth if they want. Plus, once anyone is ten years old they can go to Camp Jupiter and take classes there. It's not that bad. I've been to Camp Jupiter twice, and they treat visitors like family. They do things weird there, though."

I nod. "I know." I say. "I've been to Camp Jupiter before."

"Oh. Yeah, of course you have. Sorry." The boy's face grows red.

For a few moments, neither of us speak, but just fidget in awkward silence.

After a couple minutes in which you'd be able to hear a pin drop, the boy turns away and starts to rummage around a bit. When he finds what he's looking for, he grabs it with both hands and, grunting with effort, pulls out a mirror. Then turns to face me.

"You asked about my name... Nico." He says nothing else, and I sit there for a moment, confused and clueless.

"... Nico what?" I ask.

"My name. It's Nico."

"So...?" I ask. Lots of people are named Nico.

"Um. Because -" He lets out a frustrated sigh, unable to explain with words. "Will you just look into the mirror?!"

I roll my eyes as he turns on a singular light bulb, then turn to face the shining, reflective surface. What I see nearly gives me a heart attack.


	5. Chapter 4

We're identical. Completely identical. Every hair, every freckle (not that there are a ton of those), every speck of color in the irises of our eyes.

I stumble backwards and yelp in surprise, tripping over a pile of weapons. I slam my hand down to break my fall and feel a knife slice into my palm. I turn to pick it up, and see that it's Piper's knife, Katropis.

Strange.

I pick up the knife anyway and hold it out, facing the boy, who seems to be virtually the same as me.

"Oh, come on!" He says. "Just because we look alike you think I'm going to hurt you?"

Now that I think about it, our voices sound the same.

"I can explain." He sits down. "Okay, well, I'd assume that you already know that you killed - well, stabbed yourself to death right?" How does he know that for sure? "Well, apparently your body got taken out of camp and dumped in a stream, and a scientist found your body in that stream, only a few hours after you'd... Um, gone." He takes a deep breath. "He took samples of your cells and somehow cloned them. I am - I am the clone that he created."

I scoff. "Really? You expect me to believe that? This is just - just a freak incident!"

The boy continues on like I didn't say anything, "He raised me as his own until I was eight, and eventually told me about my cloning. You can imagine how disturbing that was. Knowing that you were born because some other kid that you never knew died? Well, after hearing that news, I ran away. I didn't know that I was a demigod, but because I was, I ended up here, guided by intuition, I guess. When we learned about Nico - well, you - I kept the image that was shown to us in mind, because I looked extremely similar to the picture." He gulps nervously. "Now, here you arrive...! I'm your clone, and something's going to happen if the camp sees you, I mean, you've been dead for, like, eighteen years - "

"Eighteen years?" I cut him off. I was almost eighteen when I killed myself.

"Yes, and it would be strange if somehow there suddenly was two eighteen-year-old identical Nicos walking around."

"No." I gasp. "You don't get it... All my old friends..." I groan. "Oh no..." I slam my palm into my forehead, grabbing fistfuls of my own hair, and slump against the wall, feeling desolate.

"Oh..." My clone mumbles. "I'm sorry. Can you name some names for me? I can tell you how old they are now if that would help."

I sigh, holding my head and sliding down the wall to the floor. "Sure. Whatever. Like it matters... Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood, Will Solace -"

"Will Solace?" The guy asks, appalled.

"What about Will? What's wrong with being his friend?"

"Oh, um, nothing. He's just not very... Normal. At least, not for an Appollo kid."

"As in...?" I ask, confused.

"Never mind. You'll see. " He clears his throat. "Um, well, anyways, Percy's thirty-nine now, and Annabeth is, um, thirty-seven, if I remember correctly. Grover is thirty-eight, and Will's thirty-six."

"Great." I respond, angry with myself for making the choices I made earlier in my life, like drowning myself. "Just great."

"Sorry, man..." He says, clasping his hands behind his back and bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

I fire up immediately. "Don't say your sorry! Don't you dare say that you're sorry, you idiot!" I explode, jumping up. "Just shut up! Don't you know anything?! It's my own damn fault!" I slam my fist into the wall with full force, breaking the skin on my nuckles. "Why did this have to happen to me? Why!?" I scream at the ceiling, punching the wall again.

My clone lays a hand on my shoulder and starts to say something, but I don't hear him. Instead I whip around and slam my fist into his jaw. He falls down and I kick him in the ribs, then run out the door and race away into the forest to the sounds of his yelps and screams. The plant life withers away beneath my feet as I run aimlessly, carelessly tripping over rocks and stumbling over fallen tree branches. The rocks crack at an alarming rate and the ground starts to split open in my wake, revealing a long ditch that opens wider by the minute.

Tears blind me as I run, and my gasping sobs wrack me, making it hard to breathe. My racing heart patters with a mix of anger, pain, sorrow, loss, and self-hate. I can't think as my mind jumps back and forth from panic to anger and back again.

I don't stop running, even once I've reached the boundary. I just run along it, hiding in the shadows as I try to outrun my sorrow and fears. I can't stop running, even though I know that it won't really help me at all, especially if I break a wrist or - A voice smaps me out of my thoughts.

"Oh my Gods. Nico, is that you?... What's the matter?"

I freeze in my tracks, not turning around, afraid of what I know I will inevitably have to face. It's a voice that I recognize, but it sounds older. Rougher.

I hear steps crunching over the leaves of the forest floor, coming closer, clooser, but I still don't move even a muscle, hoping that the person coming towards me will think that I'm just one more shadow among a forest of others.

My attempted ruse fails, though.

"Nico? Come on. I know it's you. What's wrong?"

I can't stand not knowing for sure, though, and suddenly wheel around to see someone staring at me, only a few feet away, his mouth gathered into a frown. His beard is a startling blue, almost assuredly dyed, and he is slightly taller than he used to be when I knew him. He's also more well built, and is wearing thick plastic horn-rimmed glasses. A simple silver wedding band surrounds the base of the ring finger of his left hand. But there's no mistaking the wary, careful, sea-green eyes that stare out from the depths of his weathered face.

It's Percy Jackson.


	6. Chapter 5

"Nico?" Percy repeats, staring at me. "Hello?"

I don't answer. It hurts to see Percy like this, so worried, so much older than I currently am. I bite my lip and look away, stepping back a few paces.

Percy steps forward a bit, following me. "Hey. Why are you acting like this, buddy?"

I bite my lip harder, drawing blood. It tastes like iron and salt.

Percy purses his lips. "You've been crying. Come on, man. Tell me what's up, will you?" He places a hand on my shoulder, and I shove it off forcefully, not wanting to be touched. I can't find my voice.

After a few moments of tense silence, Percy steps away, threatening to leave. "Okay, fine then. Don't talk." He turns around and starts to slowly meander away.

I clear my throat. "Why should I talk to you? My whole life's already been messed up enough as it is. It's not like talking to you would help me!"

Percy turns back to me. "What? What do you mean by that?"

I attempt step back more, only to find a tree pressed up against my scrawny back. When did that get there? "My whole life's been screwed over! I fucking hate myself, can't you tell!? Nobody can help me! Nobody!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Percy's bewildered. "You've never talked to me like this since-" He abruptly cuts himself off. "Wait. Where are your glasses? And your cap? And why are you wearing goth stuff?"

I stare him down as he starts to back away. "What? You think that I'm insane, do you?! Well, do you? DO YOU?!"

"No..." Percy gulps, backing up more. "No."

I can't control my hysteria any longer. "What? You think death can stop me? Hell, no! No! I don't give a fuck if you think so! So what, my life's been ruined? It was ruined before I was born! That's why I killed myself, you asshole! I've lost everything!" I can tell that I'm ranting, but it's hard to stop. I haven't let my pent-up anger out for years.

Percy stops and stands stock still. "Killed yourself?" He whispers.

"Yes! And I'm back again, just to have my entire life screwed up by the Gods once again! The world hates me, and I hate it!" I burst into hysterical laughter, then stop abruptly. "I hate the world! Go away! I HATE YOU!" I run forward, smashing into Percy and sending him sprawling. He grunts in pain as I pass him, but still manages to reach out and grab my ankle. I fall forwards, hearing something snap, but not feeling the pain I should have felt in my ankle.

Percy sits up as I lay there, almost unconscious. "Oh my Gods. What happened to him?" I hear him whisper as my vision fades to darkness once more.


	7. Chapter 6

I wake up to the hustle and bustle of the infirmary, with people crowded around me. My eyesight's blurry, but as it slowly clears, I'm able to make out faces of the people I used to know. All of them look older, but I'm still able to somehow connect the faces of the adults in front of me to the teenagers I left behind: Annabeth Chase, Grover Underwood, Jason Grace, and - of course - Percy.

There are others there, too. People I don't know, who look to be teenagers, and some who may have been small children when I left, who are now in their twenties. It's strange to know that my friends' little sisters and brothers are now older than I myself am.

As I wake up, everyone around me lets out a collective relieved breath, and smiles gather on the faces surrounding me. I look around in silence and prop myself up into a sitting position.

Annabeth - at least, I think it's Annabeth - is the first to speak. "Nico?" She whispers, her wavering voice sounding feeble. "Is it really you?"

I stare back in silence, shocked at her transformation. She now has short purple spiky hair, and she's wearing jeans and a tank-top. She's wearing colored contacts that make her eyes sea-green like Percy's. Her hand is squeezing the shoulder of a young girl in front of her, who has long, blond hair and grey eyes. The girl looks nearly identical to the Annabeth I first met, but she has a nose like Percy's, and her facial structure is slightly more anguar than Annabeth's. She must be their daughter - Percy's wedding ring must be a sign of his bondage to Annabeth.

I gulp, my mouth dry. "I - I..." My lip begins to quiver a bit. I gulp again. "Annabeth?"

She smiles. "You remember me!" Wiping a tear from her face, she repeats, "You remeber me."

I nod hesitantly and say, "I'm Nico DiAngelo."

Annabeth can't hold it back any longer. She breaks down sobbing, smiling as her mascara runs down her face, leaving gray marks. She bends down to give me a hug. She's pulling back when the chaos starts to form.

"Hey!" A shout rings through the room, stoping the busy activity in its tracks. Someone shoulders his way through the group clustered around my bed, pusing his way to the front.

The man standing there is so tall that he has to stoop under the low ceiling. He's wearing mainly black leather, and has a half-shaven head, one half gellled up into a triangular shapes mohawk. His hair is dyed black as the night. Numerous piercings are placed in his lips, ears, and nose, most of them studded. His eyes are a shockingly clear blue.

My immediate first thought is that he's hot. Hotter than Hell. And my second thought is that he's too old for me. He must be at least twice my own age.

He smiles as he sees me and bends down to give me a hug. "Nico."

I tense up at the sudden contact, and he seems to notice, because he steps back after less than a second.

"Well," He laughs in his gravelly voice, "you haven't changed very much." He smiles again, revealing pearly white teeth that are perfectly aligned.

He knows me, he hugged me and said that I haven't changed very much. That means he knew me from when I was originally alive.

But I don't remember him.

I move my head back a little, searching his face for clues of his identity. I shake my head a little and lick my parched lips. I bite my bottom one, chewing on it from nervousness.

The smile that was on the man's lips falls away. "Don't you remember me?" He asks, his eyes pleading.

I shake my head, no.

He bites his lips and looks down at the floor. "You don't." He turns his face away slightly, trying to conceal tears. After a moment, he turns back to me. "I can't believe it. I know I've changed, but..." He closes his eyes, then re-opens them. "I heard you were here... I thought you'd remember me." He pauses for a moment before continuing. "If I say my name, will you remember me?"

I chew at the corner of my mouth, making it feel raw "I might."

His beautiful eyes bore into me. He says in a rough voice, staring at the floor. "I know you won't believe me." He lifts his eyes to my face. "I'm Will..." He gulps, "Will Solace."

A singular memory just has time to register in my mind, one of eyes strikingly similar to the man's currently staring down at me, and then I faint.


	8. Chapter 7

"... I didn't do anything!"

"Nothing? How can you say that, Will?"

"Because I - I didn't!"

I wake up to the sound of fighting voices, a girl's and a boy's. I'm not sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say that it's probably Annabeth and Will. I recognize his low, gravelly voice. I don't open my eyes, though. I just lie there listening in.

"Of course you did! He fainted because of you!"

"Because of me?! I just asked if he remembered me, and I told him my name!"

"Yes! You did, and because of that he fainted! Have you no recollection of what you and him used to be to each other?"

"Annabeth!" He sounds appalled. "How could you say such a thing!?"

"Because I -" Annabeth pauses. "Yes dear?"

I hear a small voice, almost a whisper near my head and resist the temptation to open my eyes. "Mom, can you please stop fighting with Mr. Solace? I don't like it when anyone fights."

Annabeth sighs. "Okay, fine Jeannie. I'll stop." I hear her high heels click as she starts to walk away, the sound getting softer by the second, and then she speaks again. "If you do anything else to Nico, anything, I swear to the Gods that you're going to wish you were dead."

Silence ensues, and the sense of not knowing becomes too much. I open my eyes.

Will is facing away from me, towards the wall. His shoulders are hunched like the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders. I can clearly see the outlines of the muscles through his skin-tight leather jacket. If I didn't know he was so much older that I, I might have wolf-whistled. As it is though, I just sit quietly, observing.

After a moment or two, he brings his hand up to his forehead and swipes the hair out of hie eyes. He lets out a pained sigh and starts to walk away. I look after him, as he slowly meanders down the hall, and then decide to call out to him. He still doesn't know that I'm awake.

"Will." I say softly. Just loud enough that I know he will hear me.

He pauses and turns around. Seeing that I'm awake, he starts to walk towards me, then starts to run. A smile is plastered upon his face. I smile back as he nears.

"Nico," He says. "Nico..."

I motion to him to sit dow, and he does, pulling a rickety chair out from beside my bed. He turns the chair so it faces me and reaches out, as if to touch my face. Then he pulls his hand back, as if thinking twice.

I stare up at him. For a few moments, neither of us speak. Then, will breaks the silence.

"Nico." He says my name with a little gasp, and I shiver at the pleasure of hearing my name be said like that. "I thought I'd never see you again."

I blink. "I missed you." I open my arms for a hug and he obliges, leaning in and wrapping his arms around me. Will is warm, and he smells like violets. I lean my head on his shoulder as we hold each other, then pull back.

I take Will's hand in my own. "I missed you." I repeat. "A lot. I missed everyone, but I missed you the most of all."

Will's eyes tear up. "Eighteen years. It's been eighteen years." Suddenly, he pulls back. "Do you realize how much pain this caused me? Eighteen years. I was alone. You were gone. Not just gone, but gone for good - dead... I thought I'd never see you again! Do you know what terrors I went through? I cut myself. I nearly killed myself - twice! I - I -I..."

I say nothing as he starts so cry.

"Nico... I..." He stands up abruptly, then sits back down, frustrated. "Shit. I can't explain anything!"

I gulp. Should I fight back?

One minute passes by. Then another. And another. Neither of us say anything.

I cough, unsettled. I want to cry. Life was so mean to me my entire time while I was on the Earth during my first life. I nearly never had enough of a good time to call it 'enjoyable', and everyone seemed to be afraid of me. Not to mention that what I am would not have been accepted in my original time period - the 1940s. The only time I was ever truly happy was when I was with Will.

I'm not sure, but I think that people are still scared of me, and I hate that feeling. That feeling that I have enough power that I could rule other people through fear alone. I wonder if that's how my father feels, or if he enjoys his power, his ability to hurt others and make them afraid of him.

Nobody has seemed to notice, though, that I hate myself and that I'm afraid of what I am. Nobody seems to ever notice, probably because they think that something like that is impossible. I'm not normal, though. Anything that is impossible for others isn't necessarily impossible for me - it might just be a bit harder than most things are.

I reach up and feel my pulse, trying to calm my racing, frustrated, wounded heart. It doesn't do any good, but I can't think of anything else to do at the moment.

I know that I can't undo what I did, I can't undo killing myself. Also, I can't just become a 30-something-year-old. That'd be pretty much impossible. I've lost my friends due to the separation of our ages, and it's my own fault. Purely my own fault - nobody else's.

Finally I speak. "Will... I'm sorry. I guess..." I clear my throat. "At the time, I didn't know what to do... I'm sorry."

Will gives me a frustrated look. "I wish I could understand..." He growls and springs up, then races out of the room.

I stare after him, my heart ready to curl up in a dark corner and die.


End file.
